


Into My Arms

by When_Tommy_Met_Alfie



Series: When Tommy met Alfie AU [22]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, More Fluff, PWP, Porn with Feelings, Romance, Rough Sex, Touch-Starved Tommy, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, a Hot Mess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 20:46:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14410251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/When_Tommy_Met_Alfie/pseuds/When_Tommy_Met_Alfie
Summary: Alfie and Tommy decide to spend a few weeks apart for some efficiency. It's a terrible idea. Two weeks is an absolute eternity when you're head over heels in love. A very heated reunion follows.





	Into My Arms

**Author's Note:**

> Filling a request for some smut with needy!Tommy. And yeah, this is a hot mess. First there's domestic family fluff and then all of a sudden there's explicit porn. It's a wild ride! Also threw in a bit of Touch-starved!Tommy in here, because why not!

Spending two weeks away from someone is nothing. It usually goes by in the blink of an eye. But when you’re head over heels, insanely and irrevocably in love with someone, two weeks is an absolutely unbearable eternity.

 ...

They used to do it all the time in the beginning, him and Alfie: spend whole weeks apart and see each other over the weekends. So when a whole shipment of rum is lost due to a fire in one of their warehouses, and this coincides with an upcoming race, they decide to make business more efficient by splitting up until both matters are solved. Two weeks. It’s nothing. Makes sense, really- Alfie’s daunting presence in London helps in the now full scale conflict with the Italian gang. And Tommy’s still obsessive need for control won’t allow him to let John and Arthur deal with the races alone. He’s not… fully ready for that yet. So, splitting up for just those two weeks really makes sense.   

It takes about three days back in Birmingham before Tommy figures out this may have been a mistake. He’s not co-dependent on Alfie, he still functions. He tells himself this, at least. But it feels like he’s missing a fucking limb, a fact that is impossible to deny. Deciding to solve the issue the only way he knows how, by working, he gets through the days without thinking too much about it. But the nights are hard.

It’s been so long since he slept alone that he’s forgotten how bad it is. 

...

One night, Tommy finds himself waking up bathing in cold sweat, instinctively reaching for Alfie as the remnants of the nightmare causes his heart to pound wildly in his chest. The bed is painfully empty.

He curls up on his side and buries his face in the fabric of his shirtsleeves, breathing the familiar scent into his nose.

It's Alfie's shirt. It still smells like him, even after a week.

Eventually he falls back asleep.

...

No one comments on the dark circles under his eyes the next morning, and Tommy is thankful to be left alone in the kitchen for a while as everyone goes about their day. He’s not in the mood for any concerned questions.

“Morning! Finn exclaims as he comes down into the kitchen with the normal skip in his step. A frown settles on his face when he looks at Tommy. “Why are you sad?” Always far too perceptive for his own good, his younger brother.

“I’m not,” he promises and makes an effort to smile reassuringly. Finn nods, but there’s still a suspicious wrinkle between his eyebrows. He doesn’t bring it up again, eating his breakfast in two minutes flat before rushing off, so Tommy figures he’s let the whole thing go. 

 

Later that day, Tommy is in his room trying to wash the smell of horse off before dinner, when Finn comes to find him.  

“When is Alfie coming home?”

Home, to Finn, is still this house, despite Tommy only living there every other week now. Which is why all members of the Shelby family have decided that no one is allowed to move out until he is older, despite the at times rather chaotic repercussions of living under the same roof.  

“In a few days,” Tommy says and rubs a particularly stubborn speck of dirt from his hand. Five. Five days.  “There’s a lot of work to do in London right now.”

 Finn nods thoughtfully, and Tommy patiently waits for him to ask more questions, as conversations like this normally go. After a moment of silence, Finn disappears from the doorway. When he returns, he’s holding Frank under his arm. Frank is a stuffed horse pieced together from an old coat, with a thick knitted sock for a head and beady button eyes. Ada is the creator of this animal, and since Finn got it for his fourth birthday, it’s been his steadfast companion. Now, he extends the raggedy creature to Tommy, who looks at it with confusion. 

“You can borrow him,” he says. “Until Alfie comes home. He’s really good at scaring nightmares away.” 

Tommy accepts the offering and tries to not feel concerned. Finn has more kindness in his little finger than he’s got in his entire body. He’s afraid that will get him into trouble.

“Thank you, Finn,” he says and tugs affectionately at his hair. “I’ll take good care of him.” 

“No, he’ll take good care of you,” Finn states, throwing his arms around Tommy’s waist in a tight hug. Then he runs off again, seemingly very pleased with having solved this matter. 

Tommy isn’t entirely sure what to do with Frank. So he puts him under his pillow for safekeeping, mostly to appease Finn. 

He forgets about his new bed-mate until he puts his head on the pillow that night and finds it unusually lumpy. Frowning, he reaches in under it and pulls out the raggedy horse. It does coax a smile from him. Finn and his ideas…

Frank gets to sit on the nightstand, his beady eyes turned towards the bed.

 

…

It’s been ten days. 

Tommy is becoming increasingly sick of himself and this pining, which only makes the whole thing worse. Because Alfie is usually there to distract him when he gets like this- utterly fed up with his own company. And now he isn’t. Tommy ploughs through piles of paperwork during his day at the office, staying late in an attempt to keep himself distracted for as long as possible. 

Though eventually, he has to go home. 

“Alfie is on the phone,” John tells him when he’s just returned from the office one night. “Wants to talk."    

“Where’s he by the way?” Arthur mutters from behind his newspaper. “Almost starting to miss his constant fucking rambling.” 

“The end is nigh!” Ada exclaims. “Pigs are flying and hell has frozen over!”

Tommy ignores them both and goes to pick up, already feeling his mood lighten. He picks up the earpiece that John has left hanging. 

“Alfie?”

“Hi there, love,” Alfie’s familiar voice makes his heart clench painfully. No. It's just the stress. “How is the most beautiful man in England?” 

“I don’t know, how are you?” The words just slip out, and Tommy puts a hand over his face. God, Alfie is rubbing off on him. But the way Alfie laughs makes it worth the embarrassment. 

“Well things are the way the usually are, right? Eli walked into a pipe yesterday, that was a riot. Head first, straight on. Swear to fucking God these people can’t see to themselves for a single fucking minute-“ Alfie goes on about this and Tommy leans against the wall as he listens to him. It’s not until his cheeks start to cramp that he realises he’s smiling like a fucking idiot the entire time. 

“No word from Sabini yet?” Tommy thinks about that meeting they still need to have with the man.

“No, he seems to have fucking disappeared from the face of the earth or something,” Alfie grumbles, clearly unwilling to think about that situation. “Or maybe he’s out of town. I’ve got people looking into it. But enough about that, how are things in Birmingham?”

Tommy lets it go.

“Not much to tell, business as usual,” he says. “Things have calmed down a bit.”   

Alfie hums.

“You eating like you should? Sleeping alright?” he fusses. “See if I get there and you look like a walking corpse, I’ll be highly fucking disappointed. Right? And I’ll know, see, because I’m incredibly perceptive-”  

Alfie voices quite a few concerns about Tommy’s supposed inability to take care of himself. Tommy doesn’t even mind. 

And despite very little having actually happened, the conversation keeps going, because Tommy finds himself wanting to hear every single little detail of Alfie’s day. Alfie is happy to indulge him. For a while, he can almost pretend they’re sitting in front of the fireplace, Alfie is stroking his hair as he’s talking. And soon they’ll go upstairs to the bedroom, and-  
  
“You’ve been talking for over an hour now.”  Arthur teases in passing as he heads upstairs. “Plan on being on the phone the entire fucking night?”    

Tommy just gives him a blank look. But he becomes painfully aware that he’s in Birmingham. And Alfie’s in London.

“I should…” hang up. Go to bed. Stop acting like a lovesick idiot. 

“Yeah. Give the family my best. Except Arthur. He can have… about the third best or something. Don’t want him to get ideas.” 

“I miss you,” Tommy admits before he gets a chance to think it through. The line goes silent for a moment.   

“I miss you too, love.” Alfie’s voice is soft. “I’ll come to Birmingham as soon as the new shipment gets sent. Should just be a couple of days.” 

After a rather drawn out goodbye, they hang up, and Tommy stares dumbly at the phone, feeling a sudden urge to tear it from the wall and throw it out a window. 

Frank gets upgraded from the nightstand to the mattress, and Tommy lies awake looking at the beady eyes. 

And when he wakes up in the middle of the night with a gasp, soaked in cold sweat, he sees the ragged thing and immediately thinks of Finn. It quickly makes the lingering terror from the nightmare fade away.

Finn and his ideas…

 ...

Tommy is working such long hours that he’s actually beginning to run out of things to do. And he can’t keep hanging around the stables, mucking out the stalls, because it’s becoming suspicious. So for a while one afternoon, he finds himself sitting on his bed, staring at the wall like a fucking idiot. He should go to the Garrison, sit there and stare instead. But everyone around him is being increasingly annoying each passing day, and he honestly doesn’t feel like seeing much of anyone right now. Just Alfie. 

Fuck, he needs to get his shit together, this is absolutely pathetic.

A car horn starts to blare on the street outside, a noise he ignores to begin with. It’s not exactly unusual in Small Heath, where everything from gunshots to a window being crashed is everyday occurrences.  But the sound doesn’t stop, and that makes him take note of it. 

“What kind of fucking idiot-“ he can hear Arthur bellow a long string of curses all the way up to his room. The ear piercing noise continues, and soon, Polly makes her voice heard.

“Think that’s your idiot, Tommy!” 

Frowning, Tommy leaves his room and makes his way to the window at the end of the corridor, looking down at the street below. It is indeed, his idiot. 

Alfie is standing by his car, hand firmly pressed against the horn.

Tommy opens the window.

“Alfie, for fucks sake,” he calls out to him. “People will think the bloody war is here again:”  

The noise stops abruptly and Alfie grins up at him.

“You know I love a good entrance,” he calls back, absolutely beaming. “Now get downstairs and give me a proper welcome.” 

Tommy isn’t the kind of person who runs towards someone and throws themselves into their arms. Or, he isn’t until the second he sees Alfie standing there in the hallway, scruffy beard, wrinkled shirt and all. 

Alfie opens his arms in an inviting gesture, and Tommy isn’t quite sure how it happens, but a moment later, he’s suddenly down the stairs and has flung himself into those arms, legs wrapping themselves around Alfie’s waist as he hoists him up into the air. He kisses Alfie, hands tangling into his hair and causing the hat to fall off and down onto the floor. A soft laugh vibrates against his lips as Alfie returns the kiss with equal enthusiasm. 

“Thought you weren’t coming here until Saturday,” Tommy mutters when he finally has to breathe.

“A man can change his mind, can’t he?” Alfie nudges Tommy’s nose with his own and the smile on his face is so bright it’s like looking at the fucking sun. “Realised I needed to get my fucking priorities straight, didn’t I? Things are left in Ollie’s quite incompetent hands.”

“So the bakery will probably be burnt to the ground when we get back?” 

“If that’s the prize for this, it’s well worth it.”

They kiss again. Just a little while longer, Tommy promises himself, then he’ll tell Alfie to put him back on his feet and regain what’s left of his dignity.

“Right, so there’s food. If either of you are interested in that,” Arthur is standing in the doorway. It could be a figment of his imagination, but Tommy thinks there’s a hint of a smile under the moustache. “But it looks like you’re busy trying to eat my little brother’s tongue, Solomons.” 

Tommy’s got half a mind to tell him they’ve got much more important things than food to think about and then drag Alfie upstairs to his bedroom. But then he thinks of the thin walls. And his twelve- year-old brother who is still very much awake. And… 

Yeah. It’ll have to wait. 

“Nah, Arthur, see, human tongue is definitely not kosher,” Alfie grins and sets Tommy down on the floor. “And I’m actually rather fond of the things he can do with it so-“ 

“One fucking second of peace is all I ask for!” Arthur throws his hands up in defeat, before stomping off. 

“And everything is the way it’s supposed to be,” Alfie nods to himself, looking entirely too pleased. Unable to really argue with this statement, Tommy just takes the lead into the kitchen.

 

Family dinners in the Shelby household are always a more or less chaotic event, and this one is no exception. Finn adamantly wants to keep his new favourite stick on the table, and gets into an argument with Polly about the whole thing. Esme and John are very enthusiastically discussing… something, while Arthur and Ada are talking twice as loud as everyone else, just to hear each other over the racket.  

Tommy is barely aware of any of it, because he’s busy listening to Alfie’s longwinded story about his trip. Alfie’s hand is on his leg, the thumb rubbing small circles on his inner thigh. After a little while, Tommy lets one of his own hands slip down and take it. Alfie's fingers squeeze his lightly. 

“Tommy?” 

Alfie’s beard is a little longer at the sides. Maybe he’s forgotten to have it trimmed? Should Tommy remind him? 

“Oi, Tommy!” 

No, he rather likes it this way. 

“For fucks sake, someone bash him over the head with something-“ A hand lands on the back of his head and Tommy snaps out of his thoughts, glaring at the owner. Esme shrugs nonchalantly and indicates towards John, who is staring at him.

“What?”

“The fucking salt, Tommy give it here!” he says, not without amusement. “It’s like you’ve gone deaf or something. 

“You two should get a bloody room,” Arthur notes and gives him and Alfie a pointed look. “Didn’t think it was possible for an entire table to be a third wheel. But here we are.” 

“Oh, sod off,” Ada stretches across the table and grabs the salt before Tommy fully understands what either of them are talking about. “Let him gaze longingly in peace.” 

“We  _are_ in a room, Arthur,” Finn points out, looking puzzled. “Why do they need to get one?”

“Yeah, Arthur, explain that,” Alfie chuckles, giving Arthur a smug grin. “Ain’t this a perfectly decent room?”

“I’m not _gazing longingly_ ,” Tommy mutters and lets go of Alfie’s hand, shuffling a potato around on his plate with great disinterest. Alfie just pats his knee and smiles.

“I want to know about the room now!” Finn insists, making Arthur very much regret that comment, as he now has to spend the rest of the dinner trying to explain this in an appropriate way to a twelve-year-old. Much to everyone else’s amusement.

 

Eventually, they do get a room, when the house is finally quiet, and enveloped in that rare sort of peace only a home full of sleeping people can be.

“Is it alright?” Alfie indicates towards the key in the lock, and Tommy nods, unbuttoning his shirt, hands almost shaking with anticipation. Alfie still asks, every time he needs to lock a room. 

Alfie leaves the key in the lock and comes to help him, fingers eagerly working the buttons on his trousers open

“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he says and kisses him. “Rubbish idea, this whole thing. Barely got any work done anyway.” 

Tommy only hums in agreement, trying to get all of Alfie’s shirt buttons undone at once somehow.   

They can’t get the clothes out of the way soon enough. And Tommy constantly finds himself distracted, reaching out to roam his hands over Alfie’s chest, over his back, feel that he’s actually there. Alfie seems to have a similar problem, forgoing unfastening buttons and removing garments to bury his hands in Tommy’s hair, cradle the back of his head so that he can pull him in for another kiss. As if they can’t let go of each other long enough to actually get on with anything.  

But then finally, the last piece of clothing falls to the floor, landing in the pile with the others, and Tommy revels in the feeling of Alfie’s warm skin under his fingers.

Alfie lays him down on the bed, his lips never leaving Tommy’s and his fingers skim down his ribs, making him twitch involuntarily. He can feel Alfie smirk against his lips, but he thankfully has other things on his minds than tickling him right now, and the hands continue downwards. Tommy winds his legs around Alfie’s hips, pulling him close and letting out a pleased sigh when he feels the press of his hard cock against his stomach. That, if anything, seems like a promise. 

Alfie takes his time, kissing him sweetly. And after all those nights apart... all those nights without these arms around him, or Alfie’s secure weight on top of him, it’s enough to make Tommy absolutely dizzy with need.   

“Alfie,” he sighs into his mouth, hands gripping Alfie’s hair. Alfie hums inquisitively and his lips move down Tommy’s jaw and neck. Tommy tries to say something else, demand that he get on with the whole thing, but for once, he can’t form a coherent sentence. 

“How about I show you, hmm, love? Just how much I’ve missed you.” Alfie props his elbows on either side of Tommy’s head and smiles at him, before going down for another quick kiss. 

Then he sits back, and Tommy finds himself reaching for him –wanting more, needing to have him right close. Close enough to feel his heartbeat vibrate into his own chest. With firm hands, Alfie rolls him over and places one of the pillows under his hips. Then he’s got the familiar weight back on top of him as Alfie straddles his thighs and trails kisses down the nape of his neck, continuing down his spine. 

 Tommy shivers as his lips reach the small of his back, moving further down yet. And when Alfie’s tongue reaches his entrance, he arches his back and lets out a keening moan. His mind goes completely blank, filling with just the sound of his own blood pumping in his ears. A heavy arm settles on his back, keeping him in place as Alfie uses the other hand to spread him open. Achingly hard now, Tommy bucks his hips as he tries to gain some sort of friction. But Alfie keeps him firmly pinned. 

“Tell me how it feels, love,” Alfie orders him gently, before going back to the task at hand. 

Tommy writhes under his tongue, hands gripping the sheets in a weak attempt to find something to ground him.

“Good,” he finally manages to utter into the pillow where he has buried his face. “More.”

Alfie’s tongue laps him in slow, sure strokes, until Tommy feels like someone’s picked apart his sanity completely. Fuck, it’s so good. Feels like he could come from this alone. He lets Alfie know by moaning encouragingly, the thinness of the walls far from his mind right then. It’s hot and wet and- God, no other man has ever been this good with their mouth. 

And suddenly it stops, and Alfie sits up. Tommy finds himself reaching blindly behind his back, desperately wanting more. A soft chuckle is heard and two strong hands grasp his wrists, pinning them above his head. 

“Eager today, are we?” He hears the drawer on the bedside table open, and soon, a slick finger replaces the tongue. Tommy doesn’t even realise his hands are reaching again until Alfie firmly presses them against the mattress with his free hand.   

“Relax, sweetheart, I’ve got you.” Alfie’s hand caresses down the side of his arm before settling between his shoulder blades. “Don’t I always take care of you in bed? Be good for me and keep still.” The finger inside of him curls just the right way, sending a spike of pleasure up his spine. “Just tell me what you need.” Tommy buries his fingers in the sheets again, letting out an unintelligible noise.

“Use your words, love,” Alfie teases and inserts a second finger. Biting his lip, Tommy does his best to keep the plea from slipping from his mouth. Alfie will have to do a bit more work before he’s ready to beg. It’s some tiny shred of his usual pride telling him this.  Apparently picking up on the challenge, Alfie rubs firmly against that spot inside of him, all while keeping a steady hand on his back and making it impossible to move. Every little touch sends a jolt through the pit of his stomach and Tommy moans. The pressure increases just a bit and he feels like a coiled spring about to snap.

It’s not enough. Not enough and Tommy clenches his hands into fists, holding the sheets hard enough to make his knuckles whiten. He needs more, needs Alfie to fill him up completely, hold him close, pound him into the mattress until-

“Please,” he barely realises it’s him uttering the word, every sound except his own heartbeat drowned out. 

“What’s that, Tommy?” 

The fingers disappear completely, leaving him painfully empty. 

“Please, Alfie,” Tommy breathes out. He’s filled again, the fingers sliding further into him this time. Stretching him slowly. He can’t… _Fuck._  

“Open your eyes for me.” 

Tommy does, not even having realised he’s closed them. Can’t see much from this position, cheek pressed against the pillow. He mostly just feels- Feels everything far too much, and still not enough somehow- 

 Alfie leans down, kisses the corner of his mouth lightly

“You want me to fuck you, hmm, love?” Alfie’s voice has that deep rasp to it, and he’s working him open with a new sense of urgency. 

“Yes,” Tommy gasps. “Please.” 

He’s empty again, and Alfie grabs his hips roughly, pulling him up onto his hands and knees. Inhaling sharply at the sensation of being utterly manhandled like this, Tommy hangs his head between his shaking arms.

“I want you to say it,” Alfie tells him hoarsely, the blunt head of his cock pressing against him. “Let me hear how much you want it.” Fighting the hands holding him in place, Tommy’s hips move on their own accord. 

“Fuck me, Alfie,” he begs, too far gone to think about anything other than the overwhelming need surging through his entire body. “Please.”

“Good boy,” Alfie praises and in one hard thrust, buries himself completely inside of him, making Tommy let out an involuntary cry. A hand twists into his hair, pulling his head up, while the other controls the pace. 

“Fuck, that’s good,” Alfie groans, pulling out just a bit before slamming back into him. The air is knocked from Tommy’s lungs and he has to fight just to stay somewhat upright, his knees feeling dangerously weak. Alfie falls into a steady rhythm, both hands holding his hips now and Tommy meets the thrusts as well as he can. Needing more, needing it harder- 

“Fuck, Alfie- harder, fuck me harder.” The words are just pouring out of him now. He lets it happen. He doesn’t need to keep up appearances. Not here. Not with Alfie. 

Spurred on by the desperate pleas, Alfie pounds into him, setting a nearly brutal pace and Tommy feels the muscles of his abdomen clench as it brings him closer to the edge. Alfie’s hips slam against him hard enough to almost make him collapse under him, but the hands around him keeps him up. He’ll have bruises tomorrow. 

 Somehow it’s still not enough.

“Alfie-“ his voice sounds strange to his own ears, coming out as broken whimpers. He’s not sure what’s missing, can’t ask for it…

“Shh, I know love, I’ve got you,” Alfie pulls out and with much gentler hands eases him down onto the mattress as his weakened limbs give up. He rolls him over onto his back and spreads his knees. Tommy reaches out for him, and is finally allowed to pull him into a close embrace, wrapping both arms around his back. Alfie hooks his legs up around his waist and pushes into him again, his mouth stifling the moan Tommy lets out. His chest is heaving against Tommy’s, breaths coming gasps, and Tommy finds himself smiling through the blissful fog he’s caught in as he looks up at him. 

When Alfie begins to move again, Tommy tightens his grip around his shoulders and buries his face in the crook of his neck. He breathes in the familiar scent, losing himself in the sensation. Alfie’s guttural moans blend together with something akin to sobs, and Tommy vaguely realises it’s him making those sounds. 

“Look at me,” Alfie’s fingers winds into his hair, and Tommy obeys, watching him through the veil of his lashes. Alfie’s eyes are dark, pupils blown wide as he looks down at him. He smiles. Tommy loves it when Alfie smiles as he fucks him. Makes him feel like Alfie is happy to be there with him. With Tommy, and no one else. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Alfie leans in and whispers, breath hot against his ear.  “So fucking beautiful… and all mine.” 

“All yours,” Tommy agrees breathlessly, bucking his hips as the familiar heat pools in the pit of his stomach. “Fuck, Alfie- I’m going to-” 

“Yeah, just let go,” Alfie encourages him softly. “Come for me, Tommy. I’ve got you.”

A hand reaches into the tight space between their bodies, wrapping itself around his cock and that’s all it takes. One, two more thrusts from Alfie’s hips and Tommy feels the orgasm wash over him, making stars explode behind his eyelids. He thinks that he might be crying out Alfie’s name, that his nails dig into his back- he’s trembling. Alfie holds him close. He hears his own name spill from Alfie’s lips, feels the arms around him tighten their grip as he finishes inside of him with a shudder. 

Then everything becomes perfectly still.

His ears are filled with the sound of deep, frantic breaths, and his body is heavy on the mattress. He could sink into it completely, just let himself be swallowed by the stuffing. 

“Tommy, you with me?” 

Alfie’s voice is far away. His jaw feels numb somehow. He can’t answer.

“Planning to sleep like this, hmm? With me still inside of you?” The question makes Tommy realise that he’s still clinging desperately to Alfie. But he’s not planning on letting go. This is perfect, having the secure weight of Alfie’s body on top of him. 

Tommy keeps his eyes closed. He’s tired now. 

“You’ll be so fucking sore tomorrow if you don’t let me up, love,” Alfie coaxes softly. “Probably will be anyway. Such an insatiable little thing, you are.” He gently pries his arms away. “And I need to sleep on my back, shitty mattress or not.” 

Tommy isn’t fully understanding what he’s saying, his head is filled with cotton and Alfie uses too many words at once. He’s vaguely aware of Alfie pulling out and slumping down next to him on the bed. Immediately stretching an arm out, Tommy searches with his palm for the warm body. 

“Come here, love, we’ll get you settled, up you go-“ Alfie helps Tommy manoeuvre his weak limbs and lay down on top of him, head resting on his chest and one of his legs nestled between Alfie's. He is enveloped by warmth as Alfie brings up the blanket around them, before wrapping him in a tight embrace. 

“There we go,” Alfie whispers into his hair, rubbing his back. “I’m here, yeah? Right here. I’ve got you.” 

Tommy presses his ear against Alfie’s chest and his heartbeat seeps into him like a soothing hum. Slowly, he comes back to himself, his mind emerging from the thick fog it’s been engulfed in. 

“You alright, love?” 

“Mhm, brilliant,” Tommy mutters and smiles blissfully. 

One of Alfie’s arms disappear, reaching for something behind his head. 

“Oh look at this, do we have a guest in our bed?”

Tommy opens his eyes halfway and glances up at Alfie through his lashes. Alfie has pulled out Frank from under the pillow and is giving him a very befuddled look. Perhaps he should be embarrassed, but he’s honestly to satiated to give a fuck. 

“Mhm, Finn let me borrow him, his name is Frank,” he yawns. “He’s been keeping guard.” 

Alfie laughs and settles Frank on the bedside table. 

“I’m glad you’ve had someone looking after you.” he says, and strokes his hair. Tommy isn’t sure if he’s talking about Finn or the stuffed horse. “That kid is bloody amazing,” he then states. “Kids in general, really. Always thought so.” 

Somehow, Tommy feels like there’s an implication within this statement. And for a moment, it sends a pang of sadness through his chest. 

It’s impossible, what Alfie wants. They could never- he could never… 

He doesn’t say any of those things. Instead, he just reaches for Alfie’s hand, twines their fingers together.

“Yeah,” he agrees, and leaves it at that for now.

A light rain has begun to fall outside, drumming on the windowpane. 

Alfie is silent. Tommy opens his eyes a bit to see if he’s fallen asleep all of a sudden. But he finds that Alfie is just looking at him. As if he’s the most precious thing in the entire world.

“What?” he asks quietly, gaining one of Alfie’s softest smiles.

“I’m so ridiculously fucking in love with you, Thomas Shelby.”

He will never tire of hearing those words. Before Alfie, no one ever- but that’s all in the past. And now he gets to hear them

“You’re in luck. Because I’m _ridiculously fucking in love_ with you too, Alfie Solomons.”  


End file.
